


I Woke Up Like This

by sleepless_raccoon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Parody, I Blame Tumblr, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8519776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepless_raccoon/pseuds/sleepless_raccoon
Summary: Darcy suffers a concussion and wakes up with some...interesting new assumptions about things like princes and true love's kiss and wizards with octopus familiars.





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ever After](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301325) by [Pollydoodles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles). 



> So, there was tumblr post/prompt about Darcy somehow sustaining a head injury and waking up Giselle style (from the movie Enchanted), believing that Bucky was her Prince Charming. I loved everything about the idea, and I loved Pollydoodle's one shot Ever After, but I still wanted to write my own.

Darcy first became aware of the light. It wasn’t harsh, didn’t try to press itself against her closed eyelids and force them open; it was soft, gentle, like looking up at the sky through a canopy as she struggled back to consciousness.  
The second thing Darcy was aware of was the touch of someone’s fingers on her neck – checking for a pulse? They pressed against her throat, then patted her cheek gently. They were warm, she noticed, and maybe a little rough from callouses.  
Thirdly Darcy became aware of noise. It filtered back slowly, growing in volume as well as variety, until she could discern separate voices, as well as loud clanging that sounded like a village bell.  
A village bell? Something about that thought seemed to…itch somehow, as if it wasn’t quite comfortable, but that’s what the noise reminded her of, Darcy reasoned to herself, so why shouldn’t it be? Perhaps she was just still fuzzy from being…asleep? Unconscious? What had happened? Where was she? It didn’t feel like her bed.  
Darcy opened her eyes, and the fourth thing she became aware of was the face of a man, leaning over her. It was a handsome face, with a scruff of dark facial hair to match the long dark hair that hung to his shoulders. His eyes, too, were dark, and not just in color, she thought, and suddenly she knew exactly who he was.  
“Hello, Prince Charming,” she said.  
He blinked, several times in rapid succession, and his brow furrowed. Finally, he said, “She’s awake,” and looked away, at whoever he was speaking to. When he looked back down at her, Darcy gave him her best smile.  
“So I know it was true love’s kiss that woke me up,” she said, “but since I was under the spell I don’t remember it. Wanna give it another go?”  
Someone else nearby laughed, and she frowned. “I’m pretty sure the quest is supposed to be a solo mission,” she told her prince. “It’s much less romantic if you bring an audience.” This was punctuated by yet more laughter, and Darcy raised her eyebrows to illustrate the point.  
Prince Charming still looked confused. “Um, quest?” he asked finally.  
Now Darcy was confused. “You didn’t…I mean, were you tricked into rescuing me? Because I’m pretty sure it still counts – true love’s kiss, and all that. You broke the spell, right?”  
“I don’t…what spell? What do you remember?”  
Darcy concentrated. It seemed like an easy question, but she was having trouble calling up the information to answer it. “I remember…living in a tower. And an evil wizard with a lame octopus for a familiar, and he…” Suddenly her eyes widened, and she sat up and shouted, “Jane! Where’s Jane?”  
Hands were grasping her shoulders, and the prince was trying to soothe her, saying things like “Calm down, don’t move too suddenly,” and other nonsense things that weren’t important because where was Jane?  
“Jane! Janey!” she cried, batting at the hands that restrained her. “Look buddy,” she snarled, “I appreciate you questing and waking me up and all, but I’m still gonna punch you in the throat if you don’t let me go find my sister!”  
“Darcy! I’m right here! I’m okay!”  
Darcy slumped in Charming’s grip at the familiar voice and huffed a sigh of relief. “Sorry for threatening you,” she said. She offered him a sly smile and leaned forward. “I usually apologize to charming princes with a kiss,” she told him, and winked.  
He released his hold on her shoulders with a suddenness that startled as much as disappointed her, but when she swayed at the loss of support he grabbed her again. “Are you feeling dizzy?” he asked. “Nauseous? Does anything hurt?”  
She stared at him. “Do you not want me?” she asked in return. “Did you really wake me up on accident, and you want a real princess?” Darcy was horrified to realize that she was going to start crying, but felt powerless to look away, searching his gaze for the answer. Because what kind of prince brought an entourage when he was rescuing a maiden from an evil wizard’s spell? Or looked so dismayed when said maiden offered to kiss him? Was she repulsive? Had the wizard turned her into an old woman, or something like that? She didn’t feel any different – at least, she didn’t think so. She was having trouble remembering anything before waking up beyond certain clear truths, like Jane, and the creepy octopus familiar of the wizard. Who picked an octopus for a familiar? She didn’t live in an underwater tower, did she?  
Thin arms wrapped around her shoulders, and Jane’s familiar scent and voice reached her just as Darcy realized that she was, in fact, crying.  
Ugly crying.  
“I ca-can’t remember, Janey, and my prince charming is hot and he doesn’t want me and am I hideous now? Did the spell do something? Are you okay? What happened, Jane? I don’t e-even know where I am!” she wailed.  
Jane’s arms tightened their embrace. “You’re at Stark – er, Avengers tower, in New York City, Darcy. There was – I’m so sorry, so so sorry Darcy, there was an explosion, and you hit your head pretty hard. I think you probably need a CT scan.”  
She tried to sort through this information, but all she could seem to ask was, “am I ugly?”  
“What? No! Why?” Jane assured her.  
“If I’m not ugly,” Darcy said, addressing Hot Prince Charming, “is there some other reason you don’t want to kiss me? Is the wizard still undefeated or something?”  
Hot Prince hunched his shoulders.  
“Cause it totally wouldn’t be cheating to kiss me now even if he is,” Darcy continued. “But if you don’t want me, just say so.” She looked at Jane, and asked, “Where’s your prince charming, anyway? Did the wizard’s curse not get to you or something?”  
Jane was eyeing her like one might look at an animal whose rabies status was in question. “Darcy, I don’t know what wizard you’re talking about, but Thor’s not here right now. And you took most of the impact – I barely got knocked off my feet, didn’t even hit my head, much less lose consciousness.” She looked Darcy’s prince up and down, and Darcy remembered Thor, Jane’s own knight in shining Asgardian armor, and didn’t feel even a twinge of jealousy.  
“I think you should carry her up to the employee health office,” she commanded. “She definitely needs a cat scan, and I don’t think she should be walking around yet.”  
Darcy personally felt that she could walk just fine, but those biceps…she wasn’t going to object to being carried. An unfamiliar male voice chimed in from somewhere behind her, “Yeah, Barnes, carry your lady fair up to the good doctor and get her checked out.” There was laughter in the way he said it, but it didn’t sound malicious, so Darcy ignored him.  
“Why do you think the wizard picked an octopus for his familiar?” she asked, as he gathered her into his arms.  
“What wizard?”  
“The one that cursed me, silly. He uses an octopus symbol. Do you think he has an underwater lair?”  
“I dunno, doll.”  
Darcy grinned. “Doll? I like it.” She wiggled a little in his hold, and his mouth twisted with disapproval. “I like these muscles you’ve got, too,” she went on, and trailed one hand down from where they were twined around his neck to scratch at the short facial hair inches away from her face. “I like this, too – I think it makes you look dangerous, not just sexy.” She smiled at him, but instead of accepting the compliment his eyes seemed to darken as his brows lowered, and his mouth set into a firm, flat line. He lifted one finger from it’s placement wrapped around her legs to hit the button for the elevator before responding.  
“I am dangerous,” he told her, “and you should remember that.”  
“Well, yeah,” Darcy agreed, “dangerous men are the only ones brave enough to go on quests and fulfill the role of a prince charming.” She studied his pained expression for several moments while they boarded the elevator and he selected the correct floor before asking, in a more subdued tone, “Is that why you don’t want me? Because you think I would want you to be different?”  
He shook his head. “Look, do – Darcy. I’m not Prince Charming. I’m not even Charming. You took a knock to the head, and now you’re confused, so don’t hold it against yourself when you come to and realize who you were chatting up, okay?”  
“Was it a bad first kiss? Because I was unconscious, and I don’t think it’s really fair of you to judge me based on that alone.”  
The elevator doors opened as she finished this declaration, and the petite dark haired woman waiting on the other side of the door laughed.  
“Hello, you must be Darcy. I’m Doctor Cho. I think we should get a scan of your brain as soon as the tech can get the machine warmed up; it seems Doctor Foster wasn’t exaggerating.”  
Darcy protested the loss of her prince’s strong arms as support, but not very loudly, cause she was not exactly a lightweight and as impressive as it was that he’d carried her all the way there, she was sure he could want nothing more than to be relieved of his burden. She expected him to leave as soon as Dr. Cho was available to take responsibility for her, but he stayed at her bedside until they wheeled her out of the room for her scan.  
Maybe it was the pitiful expression she was sure her face had made when he stepped back. Whatever, she was glad to have company. He was especially useful for answering all the doctor’s annoying questions about what day it was and did she remember anything about the lab accident (it was the wizard guy with the octopus familiar, and I was under a sleeping curse, so no), and could she read the clock and then repeat to Helen the time a minute or two later.  
At some point Darcy realized that Jane had entered the room as well, followed by a blond man even larger than her prince charming, to listen to the doctor’s explanation after her scan. She also became aware that she had repeatedly asked the same questions since waking, and that her scruffy prince had answered none of them, except to admit to being dangerous. She may have only noticed this because Jane pointed it out, and she would have argued that of course she wasn’t badgering the poor man about their second kiss and why didn’t he want her for his princess and what the everloving fudge was up with the octopus? But then her scruffy sexy dangerous man was nodding his head, and she started crying again instead.  
“I don’t mean to be so annoying!” she said, wiping at her snotty nose with her sleeve and trying to disguise the sniffles this second crying jag had brought along for the ride. “I’m sorry! I don’t even re-rememberrrrr!” She only just managed not to dissolve into sobs, but it was a close thing. Jane’s arms went around her again, and she gave up and leaned into the embrace and cried.  
“These symptoms are normal following a concussion,” Dr. Cho interjected. “So I don’t want you to apologize for anything, Darcy. Confusion, heightened emotions, retrograde amnesia, this is all very normal, okay?”  
“What about, uh, the other thing?” the man asked. “Her waking up and thinking I’m her prince charming and there’s a wizard casting curses with an octopus?”  
Jane shook her head. “Honestly, I bet she’s been reading another of those fairy tale novels she’s so into. Probably reading a Sleeping Beauty rewrite this week. She wouldn’t shut up about the dancing princesses trilogy she found last month.”  
Dr. Cho shrugged. “Honestly, there’s more we don’t understand about the human brain than we do. If she was reading a story like that before the explosion, then it could account for her perceptions when she woke up.”  
Jane laughed, but it sounded forced. “She always did have an overactive imagination.”  
Darcy wondered if they had all forgotten she was sitting right there, listening to everything they said.  
Apparently not, because Dr. Cho laughed at Jane’s observation and then turned to Darcy to say, “Basically, Darcy, your scan came back clean, but you’ll need to rest for at least a week – and I mean total rest. Maximum of one hour screen time per day, preferably none at all. No reading or activity that’s strenuous for your mind. That means no logic puzzles or involved board games; you need to rest and let your brain heal. Any further injury could result in permanent damage. Do you understand?”  
Darcy nodded. “I’m not allowed to do anything fun for a week.” No silly entertaining videos or texting or pinterest or catching up on her reading pile or watching television…  
The elegant doctor smiled, but it was sympathetic, not smug. “You can take naps, and have conversation, and maybe listen to someone read aloud, but I really need you to not overtax yourself. Relax, lie around in the sun, catch up with your family; just don’t do anything too stimulating.”  
Darcy felt she was entitled to the loud, aggrieved sigh in such a bleak situation, but Jane’s snort indicated she felt otherwise. Whatever, she had a head injury and her handsome prince wanted nothing to do with her; she was allowed some pouting. She stood up from the gurney and asked, “So am I ready to go then?”  
“Yes, I’ll see you back here in a week to reevaluate your activity level.”  
Darcy nodded. “Right then. Thanks.” Turning to the bearded man with fabulous muscles and still no name, she stuck out her hand and said, “Thanks for the lift up here, and sorry for everything else.” She concentrated on shaking his hand like a normal person, willing herself not to cry again, but there were fresh tears threatening to spill over when the hesitant handshake ended, and she pushed past him to get out of the room before she could embarrass herself further. She trusted Jane to follow, and hopefully she’d never see her prince extra-handsome-but-not-so-charming again.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty short, head's up!

“Thanks a lot, punk,” Bucky said as soon as he walked in to the apartment.  
Steve looked up with a wide grin and asked, “How’s your lady fair, prince charming? The doc give her the all clear?”  
Bucky shrugged. “She’s got a concussion; says that’s probably why she’s so confused. You didn’t have to abandon me like that.” He glared at his roommate and supposed best friend, but the glare, which would have frightened most of the building’s occupants into soiling themselves, had no effect. Steve just kept on grinning.  
“Well, Buck, it’s like she said; it’s a lot less romantic with an audience,” he said, and had the audacity to wink.  
Bucky clenched and unclenched his fists and took a couple deep breaths before answering. “That’s exactly why you should’ve stuck around. This isn’t funny, Steve!”  
“Why not? C’mon, Bucky, you should’ve seen your face when she called you Prince  
Charming and asked you for another kiss!” Steve chuckled again over the memory, and Bucky tamped down on the urge to punch the smile off his face.  
“It’s not funny that some dame woke up so confused she thinks the worst person she’s met is some kinda fairy tale good guy prince charming. What kind of danger is she in just walkin’ around with that kind of messed up thinking?”  
Steve was frowning, and Bucky thought maybe he finally understood his concern. Then Steve said, “Buck, you are definitely not the worst person she’s ever met. You’re not a bad person, Bucky. I thought you were making progress with your therapist.”  
Nope, Steve definitely missed the point. “That’s not – no, Steve, that’s not what this is about. You shouldn’ta let her keep on thinking like that, shoulda come with us to medical. She might think she was placed under some magic spell by a wizard with an octopus, but those thugs that attacked the lab were HYDRA, Steve, and I bet you my one arm that’s where she got that idea.”  
Steve looked thoughtful. “So you’re worried that this fairy tale mentality she woke up with will endanger her more…how? She’s already suffered a head injury just for doing her regular job, Buck.”  
Bucky couldn’t seem to stop the reflexive clenching of his metal fist. “She needs to understand that this isn’t a god damn Disney movie, that’s how.”  
Steve smiled at him, and Bucky felt the stirrings of unease. He knew that smile. That was Steve’s I’m too innocent for whatever it is you suspect me of smile. As soon as the punk started talking, he understood why.  
“Well, Bucky, have you heard the term ‘self-rescuing princess?’ I think maybe you should teach your lady fair how to better defend herself.”  
Bucky was already shaking his head before Steve finished speaking. “Nope, she’s on strict orders from the doctor to rest. Can’t even read or watch movies, for at least a week. Said any strain or further injury could give her permanent damage.”  
Finally, Steve looked worried. “That sounds…kind of boring,” he said. “Darcy’s gonna hate that.”  
“Yeah, she didn’t seem too happy about it,” he agreed. “Doc suggested maybe having someone read to her. I figure Jane and Thor will keep her company. Maybe you could spend some time with her and let her watch you draw.”  
Steve glanced down at the sketchpad in his lap, then leveled a Look at Bucky. “Maybe,” he said. “Tell you what, Bucky, I’ll agree to distract her with some drawing if you promise to at least visit her a coupla times, maybe read to her a bit. Darcy’s usual speed is constant motion; she’s always doing something, usually several somethings all at the same time. This kind of forced rest and inactivity is gonna be really difficult for her.”  
“I ain’t no prince charming, Steve,” Bucky said, and scowled.  
Steve smiled at him again. “Bucky, I can pretty much promise you that if you spend time with her this week, she’ll figure that out all on her own.”  
What a fucking punk.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am new to posting fic, and it occurred to me that if I'm going to add things like f-bombs, I should up the rating? Also apologies for formatting weirdness, and I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are my own fault, but if you point them out to me I will fix them!  
>  Here's the next chapter, hope it doesn't disappoint!

Darcy was lying on her couch staring at the wall. After a long bout of crying and lamenting to Jane about unchivalrous princes, asshole wizards, and the dearth of cute baby animal gifs in her future, she’d fallen asleep and a had a long nap.

A really long nap.

Okay, so she’d slept the rest of yesterday afternoon and all night, and still felt a little fuzzy in her brainpan, but all she’d done since waking up was shower and eat breakfast and lie on the couch staring at the wall.

It was a really boring wall.

Very evenly painted, and why didn’t she own any art? Wasn’t that a thing that grown women did? Decorated their apartment walls with art, so that when they suffered a concussion and had no one to talk to and nothing to do they at least had something to look at? Besides a wall?

Maybe she should paint her nails.

 

Pink nails and green toenails later, Darcy was back to studying the walls. She checked the clock and heaved a sigh; Jane wouldn’t be done with work for several more hours. She wished Thor was on-planet, but he was back on Asgard doing…whatever it was Thor did when he was back on Asgard.

She used some of her precious, rationed screen time to pull up one of her easy listening playlists and contemplated a visit down to the labs. Strictly speaking, Dr. Cho hadn’t actually forbidden her to wander around the tower; as long as she didn’t do any work while she was down there, a visit couldn’t hurt, right?

If there were two things Darcy hated, they were loneliness and boredom. She had become an expert at avoiding and/or fixing both situations as a young girl, and thus hadn’t had too much experience enduring them in her adult life. It helped that Jane was so clingy when Thor wasn’t around, and New York was a great place for distractions like sightseeing and people watching. Better than Tromso, anyway; less cold.

Speaking the same language as the people you were trying to order food from was also a big perk. Ugh, she wished she could at least leave the tower to run an errand. Any errand. But she wasn’t supposed to have caffeine while her brain rested, and she doubted navigating the crowded streets of the city counted as resting on any level, much less mentally.

The paint on the wall was starting to look less even. She’s been staring at it for so long her vision was starting to paint spots into the bland view. Darcy closed her eyes and was glad there was no one around to see the pathetic tears that slid from her eyes.

With her eyes closed, the events of the previous day played out like a film behind her eyelids; the wizard appearing in the workshop, the octopus carving that topped his staff glaring at her with its dead eyes, the spell that caused her to fall asleep and wake with a pounding headache staring up at the most handsome man she’d ever seen, only to learn that no, he was not her prince charming, and no, actually, he didn’t want anything to do with her. The doctor that checked her out said he hadn’t even woken her with a kiss, so, all in all, worst day ever? It was at least in the running.

Enough was enough; Darcy was going to the lab to keep Jane company. She was done staring at the wall and reliving the events and disappointments of yesterday. She pushed herself up off the couch and paused to let the dizziness recede before shuffling to the door and stuffing her feet in her old man house slippers. They were fuzzy inside, and Darcy loved them because of their ugliness, not in spite of. Well, also because of how comfortable they were. Fuzzy lining. But they were kind of like a fugly dog, so ugly it swung back around to cute.

She opened the door just as prince – er, Barnes, - lifted his hand to knock, and even his super soldier reflexes weren’t enough to prevent the rap to her head he delivered.

“Ow,” Darcy moaned, and pressed her hands to her forehead.

“I – oh, Darcy, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t – that is…”

She removed one hand to hold it up in the universal sign to stop, and his awkward babbling trails off. “It’s fine, it was an accident.” She opened her eyes and saw his hands fluttering between them like he wanted to touch her but had aborted the motion halfway through, and she sighed and crossed her arms across her stomach.

“What do you want, Barnes?” she asked.

Was that a wince? She couldn’t tell – his facial expressions and movements were usually so well controlled, but it looked like a wince. Well, good, she thought; let this interaction be as painful for him as it was for her. Darcy wished the amnesia had extended to the embarrassment of realizing that she had asked this man for a kiss multiple times, and questioned his refusal to be her prince charming over and over again between waking up in the lab and visiting Dr. Cho, but she can’t forget the way he nodded when Jane said she’d “badgered” the poor man about their non-existent relationship status, wanting a second kiss, when there hadn’t even been a first.

“I, uh, Steve thought maybe you’d like some company?” he said.

Darcy peeked around his broad shoulders, but the corridor was empty. “Steve thought?” she said. “Steve isn’t here.” She felt brave for looking up at his face to meet his eyes, but he seemed similarly afflicted and their gazes met and then skittered away.

“He, uh, he’s busy today, but if you want – if you don’t already have something planned, or, um, I don’t know, better going on, I could, maybe, read to you?”

Darcy studied his blank expression and thought about Jane’s lab, about how focused Jane was when she was working, and about the paint color on the lab walls. She shrugged and stepped aside, pulling the door all the way open.

“Sure, that sounds good.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but the Bucky POV chapters seem to be that way. Let me know if you spot any mistakes!

Bucky eyed the slippers she’d toed off just inside the door before leading him to the sitting area. He was pretty sure he’d had house shoes like that before the war. These ones didn’t quite look old and disgusting enough to be the same pair, but really, she wore them barefoot? No socks? It explained the smell he could pick up off of them. It was faint, however, overpowered by the rest of the apartment’s scent, a mixture of girly fragrances, baked goods and soap and something vaguely floral that wasn’t perfume – probably her hair stuff, he thought.

Over the years Bucky had gotten good at tuning out sensory input out of sheer self-preservation. He’d go mad from overstimulation if he couldn’t ignore most of what his brain and body was able to notice about his surroundings and fellow humans, but in new situations and interactions the old instincts were too strong to resist – Bucky needed to know what he was walking into in a situation where he would be expected to relax and spend more than a few minutes. Everything about the room screamed civilian, and femininity, from the soft throw blankets and colorful pillows heaped on the couch, to the fluffy towels hanging in the bathroom. Her furniture was arranged to look nice, rather than for optimal defensibility and sightlines. It could not be more opposite his own suite if she had been trying.

He perched awkwardly on the edge of the coffee table and watched as she tucked herself into the corner of the couch and arranged the pillows and blankets to get comfortable. “So, uh, is there a book I could read to you? Or, um…” That was pretty much his only idea. Conversation was not one of his strong points. If she needed someone quietly disappeared? Sure, Bucky could handle that. But distracting her with meaningless small talk? Not so much.

Fuck, he used to be good at this stuff.

Darcy laughed. It only sounded a little bitter. “Sure. You can pick anything from the shelf next to my bed – I’ve read them all before, they’re all favorites, so just grab one that looks like it won’t bore you and that…that would be great. Thank you.”

She was staring down at her hands by the end of her little speech, picking at a loose thread on her pajama bottoms, so she didn’t see him nod. He cleared his throat and said, “Alright, I’ll be right back with something.”

Her collection was…eclectic. Bucky expected a single shelf with a few paperbacks on it; instead he was confronted with multiple shelves stuffed full of a wide variety of novels and biographies, all looking well-worn and a bit battered, some almost falling apart. There were children’s books and classics, penny westerns and a few that appeared to be what he’d heard termed “bodice rippers” – those he skipped over. He knew there were things more uncomfortable than reading a steamy novel to a woman as beautiful as Darcy, as Hydra had inflicted most of them upon his person, but if pressed he might choose actual torture over that scenario. He kept looking, until something sounded familiar. He pulled it out and realized he’d actually read the prequel to this series, and that Steve had recommended these books to him. It looked a little long, but Darcy was laid up for a whole week with nothing better to do, and he knew she had friends, so she’d probably get other visitors that could pick up where he left off.

“How about this one?” he asked, holding up The Fellowship of the Ring so she could see the front cover and title. “I read the first one when it came out, and Steve said he liked these ones.”

She nodded, and agreed, and he sat on the floor facing the couch (and the door) and started to read. Darcy looked uncomfortable the first few paragraphs, but after several pages she seemed to relax and fall into a sort of waking doze.

Well, he was about the furthest thing from a prince charming that a guy could get, but at least he wasn’t completely useless. Darcy needed rest, and Bucky planned to read until she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Hopefully it makes sense!

“How about this? I read the first one when it came out, and Steve said he liked these ones.”

Darcy looked up to see Bucky standing by the couch holding a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, and nodded. “It’s a really good series,” she agreed. “Plus, you can borrow the set after I’m all done being a bored pain in everyone’s ass and finish it.”

He smiled, and Darcy actual facts felt her heartbeat stutter. Good lord – Hydra wasted their time training the guy to be an assassin, when all they’d needed to do was sick his charming self on unsuspecting women – and men, honestly, cause even the ones that didn’t swing that way would probably fall victim to that smile. It was that lethal.

He opened the book and started reading, and Darcy swallowed a groan. Even his voice was sexy.

She was so screwed.

It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t he be her prince charming? Jane swore he hadn’t actually kissed her to wake her up, and honestly Darcy would have been kinda pissed to not have that memory, but after she woke up? Who didn’t go for the grateful damsel makeout? Was she repulsive to him? He was super old, she mused; maybe he already had a damsel? She couldn’t remember ever hearing Steve talk about Bucky loving and losing anyone special…she tuned back in to his narration of Bilbo’s party, and told herself to stop obsessing over his rejection. It wasn’t helping her headache.

 

Darcy woke up to a quiet room, but not alone. Bucky was sitting in the same spot, reading silently to himself. There was a glass of water on the coffee table next to his elbow, and another near her end of the couch.

“Thank you,” she said, and winced a little at the obvious tone of surprise in her voice. Nothing to make a guy feel welcome in alleviating your boredom like acting shocked at his presence. Toss up whether he took in a self-loathing no one could expect anything good of him because of his checkered past way, or in a great she wanted me to leave and now she’s wondering why I’m still here I should go kind of way. Neither were accurate, but Darcy didn’t know how to explain without sounding crazy that she meant it in an I thought you would have too many other more interesting things to do than hang around here being a good friend when we don’t even know each other kind of way, because any explanation she gave would inevitably sound like oh I’m so glad you’re still here my hero. Because that was Darcy’s luck and general incoherence when confronted with attractive heroic men – in short, charming not-princes. Well, the more she knew him, less charming and more awkward, but she just found that even more attractive, so Darcy was well and truly screwed.

He was staring at her expectantly, and she flushed. She had no idea what he might have said, but he was clearly waiting on her response. Well, good thing she already had a head injury to blame these things on, right?

“Sorry, what?” she asked, and winced at the abrupt demand. Prince Charming he might not be, but Darcy was certainly not fulfilling anyone’s expectations for a fairy tale princess, or even an ordinary heroine. 

“I asked if you wanted anything? I can read some more? Or bring you something to eat?”

Scratch that, he was perfectly charming, and as much as she never wanted to see him again and forget all about this humiliation, she was too lonely and bored to send him away. She grabbed her water and took a drink before replying. “I’m not hungry yet, but thanks. And I already know the story, so if you want to just read from wherever you are now that’d be great.”

He nodded, and before he could start narrating she added, “Thank you. I really appreciate you coming over and entertaining me. You really didn’t have to. But I’m totally glad that you did. So thanks.”

Bucky nodded again and cleared his throat. Was that…was he blushing? He shook his hair loose to cover his face when he leaned forward to continue reading, and Darcy gave herself up as lost. If anyone asked, she’d blame the concussion for the fact that she couldn’t recall a single thing about the chapters he read before her stomach rumbled and Bucky escorted her to the main kitchen to scrounge something to eat. It was absolutely the concussion, and had nothing to do with Bucky being adorable or the sexy rumble of his voice or the fact that he was definitely the kindest man she’d ever been rejected by.

The rejection still hurt, and Darcy now knew that even if she wasn’t living in a fairy tale, Bucky was dangerous. She was glad (not disappointed, certainly) to find others in the kitchen to distract her and engage her in conversation while he slipped away and she stuffed her face with pasta. Bucky didn’t want her, he’d made that clear, and Darcy needed to keep her distance if she wanted to survive the week with only a concussion on her record. No broken hearts were needed here, thank you. Prince Barnes could just keep himself to himself, and she would bother Jane in her lab tomorrow.

 

Darcy woke the next day with a pounding headache and a short temper, and staring at the wall from her couch was making her eyes hurt only a few minutes in. She decided to head down to the lab; so long as she promised not to touch anything or look at the screens, she’d be fine, right?

Bothering Jane in the lab would have been easier if Jane would let her into the lab. Apparently she was taking Dr. Cho’s warnings very seriously, because she’d locked Darcy out and refused to listen to Darcy’s long list of reasons why she should reconsider.

Okay, so the list wasn’t actually that long, it just consisted of Darcy whining over and over again about how bored she was, how unreasonable Jane was being, and how she wouldn’t look at the screens or do anything strenuous and pleeeeaaaaassse just let her in!

Jane was unmoved.

Darcy took her time on the walk back to her room, already dreading another day of staring at the paint on her wall. Maybe she should use some of her precious screen minutes to buy a painting or a poster or something to put up?

“You look sad.”

The voice at her elbow startled her so much that Darcy actual facts jumped and clutched a hand to her chest.

“Holy crap!” She looked at the perpetrator and scowled. “Don’t scare a girl like that, Barnes.” He lifted his hands and looked so genuinely penitent and self-recriminating that she sighed and added, “It’s fine. What’s up?”

He pulled a battered paperback from his back pocket and held it up.

“Is that my book? Where’d you get that?” she asked, squinting at her copy of Fellowship of the Ring. It was definitely her copy, which she could tell from the coffee stain and weird bend in the cover from when she’d accidentally sat on it, but why did Bucky have her book?

He looked confused and a little wary at her question. “I – you loaned it to me, yesterday. I came over and read to you. You don’t remember?”

Darcy bit her lip to hold back the sentence that rose up in her throat. She would not tell notPrince! Bucky that she wished she remembered his visit, and she most definitely would not invite him over to repeat it. She was determined to make it through this week of recovery without falling any deeper down the fairy tale well or drinking the water or witch’s potion or whatever – basically, Darcy was going to employ what little self-preservation she had and keep her heart intact until she could get back to her usual, kick-ass, nobody’s wilting princess self.

Step one of that plan involved staying very far away from Bucky Barnes and his gorgeous face and his gorgeous eyes and his gorgeous sexy voice and arms and scruff and thighs and…was he talking again? Crap.

“Sorry, what?” she asked.

He hunched his shoulders and Darcy felt like she’d kicked a puppy. “I just asked, do you want me to read to you again today? You, uh, you said yesterday that you were bored? And lonely? And it’s kind of my fault anyway that HYDRA attacked the tower, so I – “

Darcy held up a hand and said “No.”

The former assassin blinked. “What?”

“I said, no,” she repeated. It’s not your fault that HYDRA attacked the tower. It is HYDRA’s fault that HYDRA attacked the tower. That stupid wizard with his dumb octopus was after Jane’s research. He put the whammy on me because he’s a nasty wizard, not because of you. You woke me up, even if it wasn’t with a magical kiss, and me having a concussion is totally not your fault.”

Bucky was pretty sure she’d managed all that without drawing breath, which was frankly impressive.

“So you don’t have to feel guilty and keep me company,” Darcy said, and he frowned.

“I’m not offering because I feel guilty,” he said. “I just…I used to do stuff for Steve when he was sick, like read to him and make him soup and stuff. It feels…familiar. I – I don’t mind, really.”

Well, now Darcy was going to feel like a jerk if she sent him away. She couldn’t refuse the man she was still struggling not to call Prince Charming and risk that kicked puppy look again, however much she wanted to keep her distance.

Darcy was so screwed.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I probably should hold off on posting this until I've given it another read through, but I'm finally not sick and fuzzy anymore and I just want to update, even if it's really short. (the Bucky chapters always are) Please let me know if you spot any mistakes, as usual. Also Bucky keeps swearing so I upped the rating; can't remember if I mentioned that already.

The next few days fell into a soothing sort of routine for Bucky. He would read to Darcy (who on the fourth day remembered why he was there and that he had visited the day before) until she fell asleep, then read silently until she woke up. He made sure she drank plenty of fluids (“The doctor said no caffeine, remember?”), and kept her supplied with nutritionally balanced meals (much tastier than the ones Hydra used to feed him), and even managed to pull out a few stories about Steve “back in the day” to amuse her.

Then came the day of her follow up appointment.

Bucky didn’t know how to ask her for permission to go with her without sounding creepy, but he wanted to be certain that she was alright, so he resolved simply to shadow her and listen in – fuck Hydra, but sometimes the enhancements came in handy. Like super hearing, for instance, which would allow him to hear everything the doc told her from outside the room and hidden around the corner.

It possibly occurred to him that following her without her knowledge or consent was significantly more creepy than just asking if he could tag along, but on the scale of morally questionable things he’d done, Bucky figured this was a light gray at best. And he didn’t trust Darcy to tell him the truth if the news wasn’t good.

But Dr. Cho told her that as long as she limited her screen time and only worked part time and listened to her body and rested a lot that she was released from house and screen time arrest, and welcome to come back if she had any concerns.

And just like that, Bucky was free. No more feeling guilty that his past had caught up to him and hurt an innocent bystander. No more spending time with a civilian too trusting to realize she should be casting him as the monster in her fairy tale dream, not the prince. No more quiet, peaceful days spent in Darcy’s living room letting her comfortable, lived in space soothe him, no more conversations talking about his past in which she drew out moments he didn’t know he remembered, so gentle and undemanding and forgiving if he lapsed into silence or stumbled for words. No more shared meals pretending to be grumpy that she wouldn’t stop begging for “just a little coffee – like a sip, I swear, only a sip!”

It had only been a week, it started out as an obligation, a way to pay penance, and now she was the bright spot in his days. He hadn’t even noticed her waltzing past his defenses with a bright, blameless, gap-toothed smile.

Fuck.

He shadowed her back to her room and waited a bit before knocking on the door. Darcy opened it with a grin and said, “I’m cleared!”

He nodded. “That’s good,” he said, and couldn’t think of anything else to add. Talking was still so difficult sometimes. He used to be good at this – used to be a charmer, a guy with ready conversation and wit and charm, and now all he can do is stand on her doorstep and hunch his shoulders against the dismissal he knows is coming.

“Um, I wanted to say thank you, for spending so much time with me,” Darcy says, and Bucky chances a quick look up to find her blushing. She has lovely skin, and so pale that the red color spreads quickly and suffuses her face and neck.

“I know I made things awkward for you when I woke up, and it was really nice of you to come keep me company and read to me every day. So, thanks,” she finishes, and now she is staring at her ugly slippers and one hand is clutching the door so tightly if she were enhanced it would splinter.

“You’re welcome,” he says. He considers adding more but doesn’t want to sound foolish, and can’t figure out how to convey the appropriate amount of pleasure spent in her company without sounding eager or rude. He falls silent instead.

“The doc said I could go back to work, at least part time for now,” she said, and Bucky cringed. Of course, she wanted to return to work, and he was standing around outside her suite, keeping her from the lab, like an unwanted stray dog pestering her for attention.

“Right, sorry,” he said. “You have things to do. I’ll go.” He turned away before she could reply, then turned back to add, “I’m glad you’re recovered.”

He thought he heard her sigh, and a muffled thud like she’d dropped something, before the door closed behind him.

He shook off the thought that it was going to be a lonely day and resolved to drag Steve down to the gym for some time on the sparring mats.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short, but I wanted to keep her and Bucky's POV to separate chapters, and the next one is coming soon!

Darcy watched Bucky practically run away down the hall so she could “do things” and huffed a frustrated sigh, pressing her forehead into the doorjamb with a thud. “That’s not what I meant,” she grumbled to herself as she closed the door and shuffled to her bedroom to change into something that at least didn’t look like pajamas for the lab. Helen had warned her that the sluggish thoughts and confusion and lapses in memory could linger, and Darcy felt that a mind stutter could not have come at a worse time. She had had other visitors during her week of enforced rest, but Bucky had far and away been the most faithful, and the most restful companion.

(Jane had talked science at her while Darcy drifted in and out of comprehension until finally she’d cried uncle. “Jane, I can’t understand most of what you say when I haven’t sustained a brain injury, show a little mercy.” Jane just smiled a happy smile at Darcy’s sarcasm and energy and switched to speaking English, talking about nothing and everything the way best friends do. Steve had shown up with his drawing supplies and offered to sketch her. “Sure, if you draw me like I’m NOT stuck on the couch with a concussion.” Steve was able to “photoshop” the drawing so that Darcy was satisfied she didn’t look like a nineteenth century fainting heroine, and if he made an extra one of her looking exactly like the fairy tale princess she wasn’t, Bucky didn’t say anything to her about it appearing on his nightstand.)   
Darcy wanted to communicate to Bucky how grateful she felt for everything he’d done the past week, and instead she made him feel unwelcome and drove him away.

How best to fix the situation? Darcy mused as she stuffed her feet into her slippers. (Real clothes were one thing, but real shoes were just not something she was willing to take on again yet). Should she chase him down right now, or wait and rehearse what she wanted to say? Darcy had never been verbally challenged, and this sense of grasping for words she couldn’t quite find was a wholly new and frustrating experience. It would be better, she decided, to visit Jane now, and maybe write down what she wanted to say to Bucky, so that he didn’t misunderstand again. Especially since his week of playing caretaker had done NOTHING to change her mind about his princely status – if anything, she was even more convinced that she had not erred in declaring him a prince charming when she woke.

Darcy wondered idly what had been done with the Hydra goons that attacked the tower as she waited for the elevator. Jane had told her the damage from the explosion was cleared away (and hopefully that included any blood that may or may not have stained the floors or walls), so she wasn’t worried about seeing anything that could prompt weird memories or make her feel sick. After all the life threatening situations she and Jane had weathered, Darcy had her share of nightmares and triggers, and today, finally released after her injury, she had no desire to wrestle with any of them.

The lab looked clean though – well, as clean as Jane’s workspace ever looked, with half-eaten microwave meals stacked on the desk and papers like the leaning tower of Pisa waiting for Darcy to input findings and calculations. She smiled and threw away the trash the Jane never seemed to remember to dispose of and went in search of her boss.

She found her next door, talking with Bruce and Tony.

“Short stack!” Tony yelled. “Welcome back! Glad to see you’re not disoriented and raving any more.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks Tony,” she said. Bruce smiled and welcomed her back, and Jane was bouncing on her toes by the time hugs had been exchanged.

“We have something for you!” she practically shouted.

Jane had never resembled an overexcited toddler more, and Darcy couldn’t hold back her laughter. She made grabby hands and said “Yay! I love presents!”

Bruce pulled something from a drawer and handed it to Jane, who presented it to Darcy with at least half the pomp and solemnity Thor would have found necessary, making her assistant laugh again. She opened the box and squealed gleefully: inside sat a compact, sleek new taser.

“I love it,” she said, and there was another flurry of hugs all around.

“We worked on it together for you after the attack,” Jane told her. “Since your last one got destroyed.”

Darcy wrinkled her nose. “It did? Huh. I didn’t remember that – explains why I can’t find it anywhere in my apartment.”

Tony brushed this away with a wave of his hand as if dismissing her old weapon. “This one’s better,” he informed her, and rattled off specifications that she only might have understood on a good day, sans brain rattling.

Instead of pretending to understand him, she thanked him again and paid attention to his demonstration on how to use her new toy. They were reenacting First Contact with Thor (minus actually hitting Tony with a lab on wheels) when the alarms sounded.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, the next chapter will be longer.

Bucky would absolutely, definitely, stop shadowing Darcy and find Steve for some gym time just as soon as he made certain she arrived safely at the labs. And it wasn’t stalking, he told himself, since they were still in the tower, and he knew exactly where she was going anyway; he was just making sure she got there safely.

In Stark tower. With newly enhanced security measures. Inhabited by superheroes.

It was still totally reasonable to tail her on her way to work, in light of the recent attack.

Even Bucky thought his explanation sounded weak.

It didn’t stop him from padding down the hall behind her, racing down the stairs to watch the elevator arrive, and following her through the corridors to the labs. He watched her take in Jane’s empty lab and followed her to where the scientists were huddled together. Watching her face light up with joy at the gift they’d made her and seeing the easy physical affection between them all made something in his chest ache.

He felt…longing? Maybe loneliness? There was more to it than that, though, something lighter, like the echo of a laugh. He knew that he used to be like that, used to laugh with friends and hug people he loved, but remembering was like watching a movie of someone else’s life, or remembering a dream you had a long time ago – sort of vague and fuzzy around the edges.

Then the klaxons starting alarming, and beyond the first icy shiver of fear, all Bucky felt was the calm, terrible determination that the Asset would protect what was his to keep safe.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really unsure about this chapter, but my eyes are starting to cross with rereading it. Any feedback appreciated, good or bad. I just don't even know anymore.

Darcy reacted to the sound of the alarms by tightening her grip on the taser. Tony was already calling his suit, and Bruce was drawing in deep, even breaths and clenching and unclenching his fists. Jane scowled and ran out of the room.

“Jane!” Darcy called, and ran after her.

“I’m not letting those assholes anywhere near my research!” the tiny scientist yelled. They made it to Jane’s lab and Darcy waited until her friend was near enough the hidden door of the safe room – installed in case of a Hulk incident, but very handy in the present circumstances – to shove the smaller woman into the armored room.

Darcy had intended to follow her in to safety, but a noise in the hallway distracted her as she hit the button to close and lock the door, and she turned her head too quickly, got dizzy and lost her balance. She pulled her foot out of the room just before the door could slide closed and crush it, and heard Jane screaming and pounding on the door until it snicked shut, leaving her on the wrong side.

Well.

Darcy picked up her new taser and turned it to the highest setting, then turned it down a notch. Tony had designed the thing to take down Steve (and had promised to show her the video of the test run); she would have more shots if she didn’t max out the power each time, and unless they were being attacked by super soldiers, there was no need to be wasteful. An ordinary amount of twitching and drooling on the part of her enemies would satisfy her.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, and Darcy thought ruefully of Helen’s instructions to ease back into her normal routine. Then again, dangerous situations were almost routine when working with Jane at this point. She found a hiding spot tucked between two machines and settled in to wait.

She didn’t have to wait long for something to happen. The door to the lab burst open and several men spilled through from the hall, the dull sounds of flesh striking flesh, grunting and bodies thudding telling her that there was a fight happening. She couldn’t hear the thrusters of Tony’s suit, and there was no roaring or smashing to indicate that Hulk was in the room, so Darcy snuck a peek to see who was fighting the intruders.

It was Bucky. He was surrounded by a herd of Hydra soldiers, all wielding large guns and wearing SWAT style uniforms and helmets. No one could get a clear shot at the super soldier, though they shot several of their own by mistake in the attempt. Darcy forgot she was supposed to be hiding, caught up in watching the fight.

Bucky was blur of motion, leaving groaning, bleeding men scattered on the floor around him. Darcy had seen the video footage of his fight with Steve in DC, and of course she knew his history, but seeing it in person was different. It was so raw, so brutal…so very hot.

Darcy would probably need to see a therapist at some point to work through her incredibly inappropriate response to dangerous situations – and men, because right now all she wanted was for Bucky to finish dispatching the trespassers so he could carry her to bed caveman style. She closed her eyes to get a grip on her libido and ducked behind the machine again, finally remembering that she was supposed to be hiding.

When she poked her head around the corner again, she could see that Bucky was in trouble. Two soldiers had managed to grab him, by the right arm and the neck, and the angles were awkward for him to free himself. Gauging the distance, Darcy crept forward to hide behind a different machine, and let loose with her taser before either of the other two remaining attackers could shoot Bucky. The man dropped, and Darcy shot the other one just as he turned to shoot her, ducking her head under her arms when his bullets rained down plaster from the ceiling.

One of the men holding Bucky loosened his hold in confusion or distraction, and Bucky dispatched him with a blow from his metal arm, but the other man used the proximity to club the former asset with the butt of his rifle, once, twice, three times in quick succession, until the super soldier dropped to the floor with a low moan.

Darcy turned the taser up to its full strength before tasing that guy, and would have enjoyed his downfall if he hadn’t landed on the man she was trying to protect.

“Bucky!” Darcy exclaimed, scrambling across the room to kneel down beside the prone figure. She shoved the unconscious man off of his face and chest and ran her hands over his hair, scanning his head for any bleeding.

He blinked his eyes open and gazed up at her, then smiled. It was the same soft look he’d given her several times over the past week as they sat together in her room, and Darcy let loose a gusty sigh of relief. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her temples and the shakiness of the impending letdown after the massive adrenaline surge of the attack.

“You my self-rescuing princess?” Bucky asked, and Darcy laughed.

“I guess so,” she said. “You finally gonna agree to be my prince charming and give me that kiss?”

Bucky grinned, and tucked a hand under his head. “I think, doll,” he told her, “that the one who does the rescuing is supposed to do the kissing. That’d be you.”

Darcy shook her head and laughed again. “Steve was right, you’re a jerk,” she said. Then she leaned forward and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it seems a little fast, hopefully the next Bucky POV chapter will help clarify?


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. You guys are awesome. Thank you to everyone who had reviewed and offered kudos - you have turned me into a glutton for feedback, and somehow it really does feed the muse and inspire me. I love all the suggestions and reactions, and the response to the last chapter, that I was really unsure about, was so positive - thanks. I have loved to read fanfiction (for many varied fandoms and pairings) for years now, and have written stuff before, but never posted it until just recently, and now I'm addicted. So, again, thanks. Hope you enjoy this one.

“What the hell?”

Tony’s voice, mechanical sounding from behind the faceplate of his suit, interrupted the very enjoyable exploration of Darcy’s lips that Bucky was indulging in. Bucky used his metal hand to flip Tony the finger behind Darcy’s back, since his real hand (not s’posed to call it that, his therapist always insisted, they were both his hands) was currently buried in Darcy’s thick, soft hair, cradling the back of her head.

She giggled and her lips curved up in a smile against his mouth. Bucky was pretty sure he could keep kissing her forever and not get tired of it, but he let her pull away and sat up to face the aftermath. Tony was unlocking the safe room, and as soon as the door slid back Jane was hurtling towards her assistant.

“Darcy!” she cried. She stopped herself just short of crashing into the other woman, instead fluttering her hands over Darcy’s body without touching. “Shit, I don’t want to hurt you or jostle you, Helen said that would be bad for your brain. Did anyone touch you? How are you feeling? What the hell were you thinking, closing the door before you were all the way inside the room?” This last was said with all the heated anger of a person terrified for their loved one’s safety, and Darcy responded by pulling Jane into a hug. Bucky knew that tone; he’d used that tone on Steve often enough, back in the day.

Speaking of the punk…

“What happened?” Steve asked, running into the room. “Bruce is meditating in the safe room and there’s bodies in the hall.” He took in the floor littered with unconscious Hydra agents and then looked at Bucky. “Your work?” he asked.

“Except those,” Bucky answered, gesturing at the men Darcy had tased. “Darcy took those ones down. Saved my hide.”

The woman in question flushed when all eyes turned to her with various expressions of shock, reproach, and pride – and in Jane’s case, all three. Bucky was familiar with that look, also.

He felt an amazing clarity. Seeing Darcy threatened, someone the soldier in him had apparently decided was his, had crystalized a lot of confusing emotions. Although, it was probably more accurate to say that he was hers, and Bucky could only hope she’d have him. The kissing was a positive sign. The talking would have to come later – and that was the part he dreaded, the part he struggled with.

But Darcy would be worth it. He was already looking forward to more kissing. (More afternoons spent in her cozy living room, reading together, eating together, laughing together…she was so restful. Somehow, he felt that even full of her usual energy, her presence would continue to exert that strange, wonderful, calming, centering effect.)

Building security arrived on scene not long after Steve to restrain and cart away the fallen enemy agents, leaving Tony to step out of the suit and check on Bruce. Steve was helping lift and shift the dead weight of the unconscious men, but he waved Bucky away. “You should go with Darcy up to medical,” he said.

“You need to get your head checked out, don’t forget,” Darcy added. “That guy hit you pretty hard.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve had worse,” he said.

Darcy’s face twisted, and her expression changed from one of friendly concern to a sad smile. “I know,” she said. “But we care about you, and Steve won’t be able to relax until he knows you’re okay.” She leaned in and pretended to whisper, though her voice still carried throughout the lab. “He’s kind of a worrier, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Bucky snorted. “It’d serve the reckless punk right to worry about someone else for a change.”

“Hey!” Steve protested, but he was smiling. “She’s right about you needing to go up and get checked out, Bucky, if you got hit in the head. You could have a concussion.”

Bucky noticed that Darcy didn’t laugh along with everyone else, and she was quiet all the way up to Dr. Cho’s domain. He hoped Steve’s joke hadn’t made her uncomfortable, but there wasn’t a good opportunity to say anything. They were placed in separate rooms, and she was gone by the time Dr. Cho gave him the all clear. Steve was waiting for him outside the room, though, and they left together for their rooms.

“So, Bucky,” Steve said as they waited for the elevator. “I heard the story, and there’s just one thing I’m still fuzzy on.” Steve was wearing his “I’m a little shit” grin, which was never a good sign.

“Yeah, what’s that punk?” Bucky asked. He braced himself for whatever Steve was about to ask, most likely intended to embarrass his best friend.

“How did you get down to the lab so quick when the alarms went off?” Steve asked.

Bucky flushed.

Steve’s grin widened. “You were already down there, huh?” he asked. “Were you escorting the lady to work?”

That would be so much less embarrassing, Bucky thought. Unfortunately, if he lied it would be all too easy for Steve to check with Darcy, and then not only would the awkward truth come out, Darcy would know that he’d been following her.

He should probably confess that he’d been following her. Right around the time he confessed that in the short span of one week he’d somehow fallen victim to her charms, and would like to date her.

Maybe he should lead with the dating thing.

Bucky realized that Steve was still waiting patiently for an answer, and he blushed all over again. Steve was real good about not pointing out how often Bucky took longer than was socially acceptable to respond to things, waiting without comment or judgement for him to process and formulate. Bucky wondered when the last time he’d told Steve that he appreciated that, if ever.

“Steve?” he said as they boarded the elevator.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“I…thanks. For being my friend. I don’t…just, thanks.”

Steve was blinking a lot more than seemed necessary, but all he said was “To the end of the line, Buck.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed.

Then, “So, did you walk Darcy down to the lab, or were you following her like some kind of stalker?”

What a fucking punk.


	11. Chapter Eleven

“You could have a concussion.”

Steve’s words echoed in Darcy’s brain, bouncing and reverberating like a shout in an empty concert hall. A concussion. Everyone blamed Darcy’s weird not-quite-a-hallucination experience after the first attack on her concussion, including her desire to kiss Bucky because she believed he was her prince charming. Was Bucky now suffering under the influence of something similar? Had he smiled at her, and kissed her, because of the head injury? It wasn’t like Bucky was the poster boy for a healthy mind anyway, and here came Hurricane Darcy to mess everything up even more.

The kissing was such a mistake. How could she have been so selfish? Bucky had done the right thing in the same situation, and had taken her straight to the doctor instead of taking advantage of her lips. Darcy had taken advantage of Bucky’s lips. And she was doubly a bad person, because she wanted to do it again.

At least Helen said she probably hadn’t done any further damage to her own brain, even if she was insisting that Darcy take another few days off as a result of the excitement. Oh well; it would give her plenty of time to obsess over how badly she had handled things with Prince Charming.

 

Wallowing was a lot less fun without alcohol, Darcy decided. She was still supposed to limit her alcohol and caffeine intake, and caffeine had already won that morning. She was allowed some screen time finally, but all the movies in her Netflix queue seemed uninteresting. Bucky still had her copy of Fellowship, and Darcy had decided she needed to read the series again before re-watching the movies – and was definitely not going to ask him to give the book back. She was, in fact, planning to avoid him as long as possible. Preferably forever. The apology she needed to make the next time they encountered one another was on her list of top dreaded conversations ever, right under “how to tell your ex you have herpes” and above “hi, mom and dad; about the car.”

There was a knock at her door, and Darcy wrinkled her nose, wondering if she had forgotten to leave it unlocked. Jane had promised to come and keep Darcy company while security sorted out her lab, but had begged to visit and make sure everything was saved and shut down properly before leaving it for them.

“Sorry, Jane, I guess I must have –“ Darcy broke off mid-sentence when she opened the door to find not Jane, but Bucky waiting on the other side. “Locked it,” she finished lamely. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, and lifted his hand in a little wave. “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

Darcy nodded and stepped aside to welcome him into the room. So much for avoidance. Better to just get it over with, rip off the bandage without a lot of needless dancing around. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.

Bucky looked surprised – and confused. “Sorry?” he said. “Sorry for what?”

“For taking advantage of you,” she said. “All week you’ve been so great, coming around and reading and just keeping me from going crazy with boredom, and I didn’t even really thank you, and then you get a head injury and all I can think about is kissing you, instead of making sure you were okay and I’m so sorry. And also grateful. You know, for this past week. And saving my life, probably, in the lab just now.” Darcy wondered if Tony had ever thought about installing trapdoors in the floors of the tower, to swallow a person up when they utterly humiliated themselves and needed to be disappeared. Like right now.

Bucky shook his head. “What? No. That’s…I mean I don’t have a head injury. It takes a lot to hurt me, really Doll.”

Darcy ignored the thrill that nickname gave her and arched an eyebrow. She’d been practicing her Natasha expressions in the mirror this past week. “He knocked you down. By hitting you in the head. More than once.”

Bucky grinned. “Trust me, that’s the easiest takedown Hydra ever gave me. I’m just getting soft, sparring with Steve. He never could get the hang of fighting dirty.”

“That…honestly makes me feel even worse,” she admitted. She hated thinking about what Bucky had suffered as a prisoner of war, and his easy, casual dismissal of the blows he’d taken hurt her heart somehow. Like, more than her usual bleeding heart response to pain and injustice, Darcy ached at the knowledge that this kind, strong man had been brought so low, used so cruelly.

She was so very, very screwed. And not in the fun way. Not that she hadn’t thought about it, especially after seeing him in action, because she was a horrible, objectifying person who couldn’t even be bothered to make sure the man she was kissing wasn’t acting under the influence of having his brain rattled. A formerly brainwashed man, no less.

Darcy’s downward spiral of self-loathing was interrupted by a pair of very muscular arms wrapping around her torso and pulling her against an equally muscular chest. That one of the arms was metal was inconsequential to the part of Darcy’s brain that immediately began drooling. The rest of her brain realized that Bucky was speaking and shut down the scolding internal monologue to listen.

“Doll, if you’re apologizin’ for that kiss because you regret kissing someone as messed up as me, and you didn’t mean to lead me on, that’s no problem, and I won’t bother you. Like I already warned you, I ain’t no prince charming. But if you think you need to apologize because I was out of my head or some such nonsense, let me tell you that I have been wanting to kiss you for a long time now, and now that I have, all I can think about is whether or not you’ll let me do it again.”

Well.

Darcy was rethinking her stance on being screwed. Mainly she was thinking against the wall…

 

“I kissed Bucky,” was the first thing Darcy said to Jane an hour later upon opening the door to admit her to the apartment.

Jane blinked owlishly and said, “What?”

“I kissed Bucky. After the Hydra goons were all down.” She pulled the smaller woman inside and closed the door, waiting for Jane to process this important gossip so she could move on to the conversation they’d had between additional kisses while Jane was in the lab.

Jane’s eyes narrowed. “You kissed Barnes,” she repeated, “while I was still locked in the safe room?” Crap. “Wondering if you were dead or injured or captured?” Double crap. “Trapped all alone in a soundproof room with no idea what was happening to my best friend? That’s when you kissed him?”

“Yes?” Darcy offered. She was in so much deep deep crap right now with her best friend. “I’m sorry?” she tried, but Jane’s eyes were still narrowed and dangerous. “It was a heat of the moment thing!” she wailed. “And I really really need you to be mad at me later, so you can help me figure this out right now! I’m freaking out!”

Jane sighed and drew the younger woman into a tight hug. “Fine. Tell me all about it.”

So Darcy did.

“So, do you think I…took advantage of him?” she asked.

Jane frowned. “No, not any more than he did of you. Adrenaline is a pretty powerful drug, but aside from the history of brainwashing, you guys are pretty evenly matched for injuries and outside influences today. And he did say that he wanted to kiss you before this afternoon.”

Darcy couldn’t hold back the smile that curled her lips at the memory. “Yeah, he did,” she said softly. “And, uh, he also said that…that he’d like to date me. In between the kissing. I’m pretty sure we’re dating. You know, so long as you think I’m not making a huge, concussion induced mistake.”

“I don’t think you’re making a concussion induced mistake,” Jane intoned.

“And, I guess, if Steve doesn’t think so, either,” Darcy continued, not acknowledging her friend’s encouragement. “He knows Bucky best, he might think I’m being pushy and if he thinks Bucky isn’t ready for something like this –“

“Darcy!” Jane interrupted, “Steve has been laughing at his friend ever since you woke up and demanded a true love’s kiss. He’s also been telling Bucky to kiss you.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “How would you know this?” she asked.

Crap. That was Jane’s insufferably smug, yeah my theories were correct betcha wish you hadn’t mocked me smile that she saved for really misogynistic scientists who tried to cozy up at conventions now that she was all famous and successful. Darcy did not like being on the receiving end of that smile.

“Because he told me,” she said. “Steve’s been by the lab several times this past week to talk about you.”

“Oh. Well. Then.”

On the upside, Jane’s giggles probably meant that Darcy was forgiven for kissing before releasing her from the safe room earlier. Hopefully.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here it is. This chapter pretty much entirely influenced/inspired by the lovely comments from you lovely people. Thank you so much for reading and kudo'ing and commenting and just generally being amazeballs. Like, wow. I love being active in this fandom, and I have felt so encouraged and inspired by everyone and all the gracious things you said. Here it is, hope it's not a disappointment!

“So, I, uh, I have a confession,” Bucky said.

“Wow, already?” Darcy teased him. “We’ve only been dating one whole day.”

The serious look on his face sobered her, and she sounded a little worried when she asked, “Hey, no, sorry, what is it? You can tell me anything.”

He took a deep breath. Steve was right, it was important to tell her. He just worried he’d killed his chance with her before he even knew he had one. “I, yesterday, the reason I was in the lab…I was following you. After I came by. I just…I didn’t mean to be intrusive or, or make you uncomfortable or anything, I just…worried.”

Darcy didn’t look mad. In fact, she was smiling. Was that a normal reaction to finding out your boyfriend had maybe sort of stalked you before you got together?

“You were worried about me?” she asked. “Walking from my room down to the lab?”

“You had a concussion!” he defended himself. “And it’s not like I was wrong to be concerned – look what happened!”

She laughed. “I’m really glad you were there, for sure,” she reassured him. “And I’m not mad that you followed me, but, um, probably don’t do that in the future. You can just come with me if you’re worried,” she said, and winked at him. “Now that you’re my boyfriend, I think that’s one of the perks. I’ll have to check the manual, though.”

Bucky smiled and enjoyed the flush of relief. “Thanks, doll,” he said, and yep, there was that same pleased, embarrassed look she’d gotten the last time he used the term. The faintest blush dusted her cheeks and the corners of her mouth tucked in like she was trying not to grin, and her gaze dropped like she didn’t know where to look. He liked eliciting this reaction; he’d have to explore other methods of drawing it forth in the future.

The future. Bucky had a future, the chance to make amends for all the blood he’d shed, with his best friend at his side and a gorgeous, funny dame wanting to be his girl. He must have been a cat in a previous life, with nine lives and the uncanny ability to land on his feet no matter the fall, to come out so far ahead of what he deserved. (His therapist was gonna have a field day with these thoughts.)

Sitting on Darcy’s couch, their book on the coffee table, forgotten in favor of some very enjoyable kissing and teasing, he felt…happy. It was a light, floaty sort of feeling, this deep satisfaction when the self-recriminations and guilt quieted and he could just be in the present moment. The Soldier had been good at that, but it was an empty presence, whereas this felt full, so much happiness he was full to overflowing with it.

He kissed her again, and it lasted a lot longer and turned a lot more involved than he’d intended before he broke away. “Now that that’s out of the way,” he said, “I have a gift for you.”

Darcy sat up and bounced on the cushion, clapping her hands. “Yes! I love presents!” She wiggled in place. “What’d ya get me?”

Bucky retrieved the bag he’d left out in the hall and set it beside the couch, then knelt on the floor.

“These are disgusting,” he told her, pulling her old slippers off her feet. “I got you new ones.” He pulled a new slipper, exactly like the one he’d just removed but without the years of funk and wear clinging to it, from the bag and positioned himself at her feet.

Darcy laughed.

“What?” he asked, smiling up at her, slipper in his hand.

She wiggled her toes and said, “I feel like Cinderella.”

Bucky laughed too, and thought he’d probably have to brush up on his fairy tales for future date ideas.


End file.
